


Not Written In The Stars

by Tohias



Category: The Lion King (1994)
Genre: Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Lions, M/M, Mates, Romance, Slow Build, Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-05-10 20:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5600248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tohias/pseuds/Tohias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mission was simple. Kill the King. </p><p>It should have gone as planned but it didn’t because Kovu miscalculated one factor.</p><p>Himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Not Written In The Stars  
Tohias

O

Save the daughter. Infiltrate the pride. Kill the king.

The mission was simple. It had always been simple and after years of honing his skills just so he could be Simba’s personal executioner, it would have gone as planned. It should have.

But Kovu miscalculated.

His _mother_ miscalculated.

They all did.

In the end, Kovu couldn’t recall where it all went wrong.

Maybe it began when he started liking the princess. Maybe it started when Kiara nuzzled close and taught him that the world didn’t have to narrow down to hunting and killing, that it was alright to just spend his afternoons catching fireflies and watching the stars shift in the sky.

Maybe it began when Queen Nala licked the scratch on his ear, the action quick and absent-minded but the maternal tenderness in her ministrations seemed alarming and alien on him because Kovu honestly couldn’t remember when his own mother did such a thing.

Maybe it all went wrong when Kovu started liking the King.

Yeah, it was probably that.

It wasn’t intentional. It wasn’t. Kovu’s mother had painted Simba in such a revolting and self-righteous light that all the creatures that lived in Zira’s domain _loathed_ the King with abject envy and hate. Simba was a false-king, unworthy of the throne and his mother was robbed of her place in the haven plains of Pride Rock. They were all robbed. And Kovu would be the one to take it all back.

The Pridelanders would fall.

But as the days passed by, Kovu’s opportunities to kill the King kept rising yet he did not pounce, not even when he _knew_ the great King would fall under his claws, even when he knew no would ever see it or find Simba’s body. He could scratch those eyes out, tear his flesh and rip his throat out.

Kovu could have done it all.

He just didn’t.

O

In the end it didn’t matter.

He killed Nuka with his indecision, disgusted Vitani with his weakness and betrayed his mother with his love for the Pridelanders.

The shame he bore from the new scar on his face was near unbearable.

O

In the end it came to _begging._

He begged Simba for forgiveness, for judgement and he couldn’t look at the distraught terror in Kiara’s eyes, her plea for him to run, to stay, to stop being an Outsider and just _live_.

His deception would not be excused.

The coldness in Simba’s final judgement was unlike anything Kovu had heard from the usually benevolent king, the displeasure was as clear as the cold stars in the sky.

The raw flesh on his scar throbbed mercilessly as he ran from his almost-home and some part Kovu knew this was what he deserved, what anyone with his _scar_ should be treated as such. Traitor. Betrayer. Motherless. Fatherless. Homeless. King Killer.

Exile.

O

He ran till his legs could carry him no further and he dropped on his lonely crop of dirt far, far away from both Pride Rock and the Outlands. He slept till the sky turned pink and the fireflies came out to play, till all that filled his mind was cold dreams about nothing.

When Kovu woke, the sun had turned a terrifying blood red.

He looked to the distant horizon where the Pridelands lay and something in his gut rolled with unease.

But it was when grey ash began to fall from the sky Kovu _knew_ something had gone very, very _wrong._

O

When Kovu peered down at the Pridelands from his high perch, the young lion recoiled at the sight before him.

Pride Rock was on fire.

And everyone was dead.

O

The flames licked his fur and singed his mane as he dashed through the inferno that used to be the Pride Lands. The landscape was transformed into a garden of burning trees, falling carcasses and suffocating ash-filled air.

He could hear the sounds of lionesses growling and Kovu knew this fiery battleground could not host any kind of war for much longer.

No matter which side they were on, Outsiders and Pridelanders alike were losing to Mother Nature.

“Kiara!”

Kovu ducked underneath a fallen log and dodged a stray hyena’s snapping teeth as the young lion bolted towards the stony slabs of Pride Rock den. When Kovu finally entered the king’s shelter, he found nothing.

The lion coughed as the bitterness in the air infected his lungs and burned his eyes.

“Kiara, where are you!?”

There was a wet, heaving sound to his left and Kovu dashed to the back of the den to investigate the sound. In the end, he found a lioness sprawled on her side at the deepest corner of the enclosure covered in blood and fallen debris.

“Kovu?”

It was Queen Nala.

Kovu pushed the stones out of the way and forced his way into the small space. He pressed up close and watched with helplessness as the fair lioness lay still and broken with her legs snapped awkwardly and her stomach mauled to shreds.

“You came back young cub.” She gave a breathless laugh that still sounded sweet despite the pain in her voice.

Wide-eyed and shaking, Kovu approached the fallen queen.

“Just…just stay still, I’ll get you out of here.” He babbled uselessly.

“Kovu stop.”  The queen huffed, her voice coarse and weak. “…don’t try to carry me, you’ll never get down the steps.”

 Kovu gave a low growl. “I’m not leaving you.”

He tore away at the remaining stones crushing the lioness’s front paws.

“Kovu, _stop._ ” She pleaded.

So he did. Her begging was too much to bear, especially when Kovu was covered in her blood.

“Look at me.”

He did.

“You must leave here at once...” Blood dribbled out of Nala’s mouth as she coughed in violent waves. “Zira and her pack are still here and the hyenas…” more coughing.

“I’m not leaving you!” He snapped.

“Yes you will. You know it already.”  She whispered calmly despite her rapid breathing. “Find Simba and you’ll find Kiara. They’ll need you now.”

Kovu closed his eyes.

“I can’t do that…what will I tell them? How can I tell them that I left you here?”

Nala gave him a watery smile.

“Tell them the truth. Tell them I died. Nothing more.”

He backed away from Nala and bowed his head in shame and grief.

“I’m sorry.”

And by the spirits above, Kovu really meant it.

 _“I’m so, so, sorry_ ”

The words tasted dry and bitter in his mouth.

Nala looked at him one last time and Kovu was stuck with a childlike yearning to tuck his face into her neck. She was not his mother…but it was not the first time that Kovu –

He turned away when Nala gave him that odd gentle smile that he just couldn’t stand.

He ran after that, leaping over flames and bounding across the dying plain as if running from something he knew he couldn’t escape, running from the image of the fair queen’s blood soaked fur and gentle blue eyes shutting close for the last time.

Kovu ran.

_Find Simba._

O

And he did.

He found him. Bleeding and half dead on his feet, but he found the king.

O

There were thirty hyenas and only one Simba.

They were vicious and cruel as they bit and ripped into the cornered king. It was all Kovu could do to keep them at bay as he leaped into Simba’s defence. The king didn’t look at his saviour; he didn’t acknowledge the exiled lion fighting by his side as they rammed their way through the wall of cackling, drooling legion of hyenas.

They eventually ran to a deep ravine of rushing water and they both leaped across, knowing that the hyenas would not follow.

Even after jumping into safer territory, Simba and Kovu didn’t stop running, they didn’t stop running till the smoke in the horizon became a grey smudge and the ash no longer fell into their fur and the sound of howling scavengers were nothing more than a distant echo in the sky.

They ran till Simba buckled and fell, weak from blood loss and exhaustion.

And Kovu continued to run with the king on his back and demons at his heels till he found a small cave and dumped the king and himself in a heap of bloodied fur and tired limbs, shutting down his mind and letting sleep take him into oblivion.

O

Kovu may have woken at some point in the night. He wasn’t sure.

All he remembered was briefly staring up at the looming figure of Simba staring down at him, his snout covered in dry blood and patchworks of fur ripped away showing bare spots of skin. But what really stuck in Kovu’s mind was the strange light in Simba’s eyes, something cold and calculating and wholly unforgiving.

For the briefest moment, Kovu wondered if Simba would kill him.

But then he slipped back into exhaustion and remembered nothing.

.

.

.

NOTE: I haven’t watched anything Lion King related in nearly seven years, so I’m not entirely sure where the urge to write this story came from.

However I set up a challenge for myself to write a story where Simba and Kovu develop a relationship that neither of them expected. Something borne out of grief and survival but eventually turns into something softer and sweeter.

Because why not right?

Reviews are my bread and butter so please let me know what you think.

TOHIAS


	2. Chapter 2

Not Written In The Stars  
  
-Tohias-

O

 

Morning light came with silence.

It was silence born when too much sound and chaos had been thrown into the air and left to settle on its own – even the crickets didn’t sing at risk of disturbing the quietude as the earth mourned.

It was this silence that Kovu woke up to.

Standing on shaky paws, the young lion stretched his bruised body, feeling the bites, cuts and burns far too keenly. He immediately noted his mane was a little lopsided with the edged singed by fire, one claw on his left hind leg had broken off completely at some point and he had sustained at least three cracked ribs from those hyenas.

Using more effort than he liked to admit, Kovu peered around the enclosure to locate his companion but realised he was alone.

Simba was gone.

Alarmed and fearing he had been left behind, the young lion leaped outside only to be greeted by a dusty trail of paw prints leading far over the hills.

So Kovu frantically darted over the rocky landscape and moved east, searching for any signs of his wayward King.

O

It was almost noon when Kovu finally picked up a fresh scent of the King.

Perking his ears and lifting his nose into the air, Kovu ignored his own battered body and bolted after the smell of old blood and dusty fur. He eventually found the unmoving silhouette of the dethroned King sitting by the water edge of a flooded gully, the lion’s neck craned low and peering into the pool like he was ready to fall in.

Carefully Kovu approached, making sure to snap some twigs to subtly let the other lion know he was behind him.

Tentatively the younger lion called out, “Simba?”

The King didn’t turn.

Kovu moved closer till he was standing to Simba’s left but still a good few paces away to maintain a respectful distance.

“Simba,” Kovu inched closer till he was barely a few strides away from the other lion. “Simba, come on we have to go back, we have to find Kiara –”

Simba was on him before he could finish his sentence, his entire body weight pressed into his stomach and sharp claws digging into his throat. The low menacing growl from the King ran through Kovu’s entire body with menacing vibrations that promised nothing but pain.

Simba had always been the gentle King, which was unusual behaviour among lions in general but Simba played it well. He lived it well. So the visage of unadulterated blood-thirsty rage was so polarized to everything Simba had represented that Kovu was struck frozen like a cub underneath the threat imprinting into his bones. But he was trained better than that. So working on instinct, Kovu kicked Simba in the gut and rolled out of the way into a defensive crouch.

However before the fight could progress further, Simba doubled over as painful wet coughing wracked his body into the ground.

Forgetting their hostilities, Kovu quickly moved out of his crouch and cautiously inched closer till he finally saw all the blood. He saw hot crimson curdling out of the King’s mouth like hot mud pools over volcanic rock, dribbling down till it made a patch work of green grass turn red between their paws.

That was when Kovu saw it.

It was shard of ivory from a hyena claw lodge in the King’s throat, piercing the flesh dangerously close to his vocal chords but clearly missing anything vital. The fur under Simba’s chin was sticky and smelt of rust where the wound festered painfully.

“Your throat…” Kovu eyed the awful wound.

The bone was too high up in the lion’s throat that there was no way Simba could pull it out with his teeth and it was too small to be hastily yanked out with his paws. It required far too delicate handling. Kovu eye the self-inflicted claw marks carved into Simba’s throat where he assumed the King tried to pull it out himself but only ended up making it worse.

“Simba just stay still and let me help –”

The moment Kovu stepped closer, Simba’s fur raised on its ends as he pulled his teeth back in a silent snarl.

The younger lion crouch back, his own snarl matching Simba’s involuntarily.

The King eyed Kovu like he was nothing more than fungus on a rock, his disdain very clear by the coldness that iced over russet eyes. Then the King turned around exposing his back to Kovu without hesitation, without protection and without care if Kovu would attack.

It was meant as insult, demonstrating how very little of a threat, of creature, of a _lion_ Simba thought of him.

Kovu should’ve growled, he should’ve pounced, he should’ve ripped into the King’s hide just for showing such discourtesy.

He should’ve killed the king just like his mother sang to him in his cradle. He should’ve done a lot of things.

But Kovu knew he couldn’t.

_Leave._

_Leave without him. You don’t need a dethroned King._

Simba was already a small figure over the next set of rocky hills and Kovu just wanted to find his own way back to the Pride Lands.

_Find Kiara. You don’t need him._

But like most things in his life, Kovu’s actions were dictated by the memories of ghosts.

First was Scar.

And now Queen Nala.

Not matter how much Kovu wanted to leave Simba behind, he couldn’t because he would be assaulted by soft blue eyes imploring him to stay with the King, to stay with her husband. To keep the royal family together.

Nala’s smile had been so sweet even when half of her innards were spilling on the floor.

_Don’t leave them behind Kovu. Please, don’t leave him alone._

Her kindness was a weapon, he should have realised it sooner. Lovely, lovely devious Queen.

Gritting his teeth, Kovu followed the King, stepping in the older lions paw prints till the landscaped changed into unrecognisable shapes and questions of where they were going no longer spun in circles insides Kovu’s head.

O

_My baby Kovu,_

_They will never tame you, because you will tame them._

_They will never shame you, because you will shame them._

_And my beautiful little cub, you will claim them if they try._

_You will burn them as beg, as they cry._

_Oh, but let them try._

_Because it will only taste more glorious if they put up a fight._

_And when you win, devour them. Consume whatever they once were, what they would’ve been and make it_ yours.

_And when you’ve finished pissing in their hollowed out bones…_

_Do it all over again._

O

Sometimes, Kovu thought his mother’s lullabies sounded almost lovely.

He supposed anything would sound seductive and sweet when she used her rare soft croons that were so clearly filled with broken dreams and a kind of heartache that Zira would never admit she felt.

How much of that heartache was fed into him unwillingly? How much of his mother’s own tragedy did Zira shove down his throat?

Kovu didn’t know.

All he knew was that when he tried to vomit out his mother bitterness, it burned up his throat and yanked all his organs out with it.

O

The King kept moving east.

Rain or shine, hot to cold, dusk to dawn.

It was always east.

Kovu wrangled down the isolated feeling in his belly when he could no longer see the golden plains of the Pride Lands. They were so far away from home, further than Kovu ever dreamed he would travel and yet there seemed to be no stopping in sight. When Kovu tried to speak, tried to urge the King to turn back, to find whatever was left of the Pride Lands, Simba would ignore him like one would ignore a particularity persistent fly. But when Kovu pleaded the King to turn back and help him find Kiara, to help find his daughter…

Kovu found himself adding another broken rib to his impressive collection of injuries.

Then afterwards the King would just keep on pulling himself forward like the heat of the sun was bleeding energy from the older lion, like anything that didn’t contribute to the action of walking east, one paw in front of another wasn’t worth addressing.

And Kovu – the idiotic, fool of a lion that he was – would continue to follow the King without a word.

During all this, Simba never looked back at him once.

.

.

.

NOTE: Thanks for reading!


End file.
